Move that Body
by Pinned back Wings
Summary: It's a story about how one can wake up on a perfectly normal day, and suddenly it turns into a freaking zombie apocalypse. Even includes some survivors and sisterly death. Ellis x OC probably. WARNING: Mild language, and possible sexual themes. Rated: T-M


_Move that Body  
><em>**Pinned back Wings**

**A N**: I don't know why, but I had an itching to write a L4D2 fanfic. Complain all you want, but it's happening! I don't own _Left for Dead 2 _nor do I own any of the characters. They all respectively belong to **VALVE **and any other developers.

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><p>"Fucking run Allison!" Another gun shot rang out, as another tug ran rough on her wrist, "now isn't the time to be a damn <em>limp noodle<em>!" Allison decided that her sister, even in the most bizarre situations, still managed to make fun of her in any possible way.

"Well it would fucking help if you knew how to shoot a god damn pistol!" Allison could feel her calves burning, the muscles tightening in her abs as she pulled closer to her older sibling.

"Can't help it if you were daddy's favorite and took you on all the freaking hunting trips to Alaska!" Another tug and Allison managed to trip over a fallen baby carriage, the medal of the handle cutting her ankle in the slightest.

"It's hilarious how we can't stop fighting even in a fucking zombie apocalypse!" Allison yelled to her sister, even more tension as Megan started to panic. They came to a fork in the road, zombies filling in from both sides.

"And imagine, this started out like any other freaking day!"

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><p>"Get off of me Doggie!" Allison threw the blankets over her head as the dog jumped on her chest continuously, "stupid mutt, get off!" Allison threw the blankets off and tangled to dog within the thin sheets. Grumbling, Allison rubbed her eyes tiredly and blinked, watching the sun streaming in through the windows. The breeze was relatively cool for the morning.<p>

Boxes upon boxes were stacked on each other in her room, and she struggled to find any clean clothes.

Finally, she got some shorts and a tee shirt to throw on. Her plain white tennis shoes, that her sister called her nurse shoes, were situated at her door.

"**Breaking news: the flu is traveling at alarming rates in the west...**" the buzz of the radio was loud in the basically quiet house. Allison looked over at her dog, who was wagging his tail happily, before he jumped off and ran towards the kitchen.

"Hey Da?" Megan, her sister, was the loudest person in the world as of now. She had been the Cheer Squad captain, the prom queen, and the straight A student; it was a lot to live with. Her ego couldn't even fit in their three bedroom house.

"What is it Meggy?" There was a pop of a beer cap, and the slow fizzing noise that was always afterwards. Allison entered the living room, scratching the back of her head, and yawning. Her slightly larger white tee shirt was tucked in her shorts ban and her hair was fizzy and crazy.

"Do you know where we put my cheerleading trophies?"

"You still, actually, care about putting those up?" Allison asked before her father could even open his mouth to answer. She glared at her sister, sweat already beading on her back from the unbearable heat. Even with the breeze it had to be at least in the higher eighties. She was used to Alaska's high fifties and it's low below zero winters, and sometimes nights.

Megan snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, hip popped out, "what's that suppose to mean?" It was Allison's turn to snort, this whole family was as un-lady like as the men were as obsessed with hunting. Which was _a lot_.

"It's suppose to mean, that you're what... almost twenty-four, still live at home with your parents, and still haven't gone to college. And you're fucking worried about those stupid trophies? Which really stand for, most-sluttiest-team-in-the-United-freaking-States." Allison opened the refrigerator and took the gallon of milk, and proceeded to chug it.

What made the stereotype even worse? Her sister had that blonde, bouncing curls that even girl in the movies had. God had bore her in this family just so she'd be freaking miserable.

"At least I did something with my high school years. What are they doing now? Smoking weed behind the dumpsters?" Allison barely looked over to her older sister as she screwed the cap back on the milk and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Hate to break it to you Megan, but they did that back when Dad was our age." Allison narrowed her eyes out the window and noticed that Mrs. Whitsviek was hobbling up to their front door.

"Hey Dad," Allison cut off her sister, "I think Mrs. Whitsviek is having problems with her television set again. She's at the front door." Her Dad set down his beer and sighed, getting up from his recliner. He swung open the screen door and stared at the elderly woman.

"Peggy, you haven' troubles again?" Her head was hung downwards, and she made a low grumbling sound, "Peggy, you gotta speak up; my ears are gettin' as bad as yours." He chuckled to himself and swung the screen door open more.

Sadly, that was first time she saw her first zombie. Allison couldn't believe her eyes when Peggy, their next door neighbor, just took a bite out of her Dad's forearm. Her flesh was receding back from her forehead and her skin... it didn't even look human anymore.

"Fuck! Megan, get my pistol and run! Take Allie with you!"

"But Dad-"

"No buts, get outta here!" He swung at Peggy, smashing her jaw in and sending her back a couple feet, "I shoulda fucking listened to Dennis.. fucking flu my ass. Get outta here!" Megan made a run for Dad's pistol, which was hidden in the planter, and with arms trembling shot at Peggy. Took a good chunk out of her head, and she went stumbling back and then she fell to her knees. Dead.

"Get outta here!" Allison was trembling, her legs glued to place.

"We love you Da, see you on the other side!" Megan grabbed her sister's hand and dragged her out of the house; shooting at the horde that approached them. They could hear their Dad's screams and cries.

And Allison could feel the tears racing down her face.

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><p>And that's how they got here. The radio said something about an e-vac station at the top of a hotel. A nearby hotel.<p>

"Fuck!" Megan screamed, the pistol clicking. The clip was empty. Allison mentally cursed their bad luck that seemed to follow them wherever they went. Allison swung at the nearest freak, knocking him back. Another got an elbow to her ribs, possibly hitting the wind out of it. Megan scrambled to do something, anything. Allison's days of walking the dark streets of Detroit have taught her little self defense, and it couldn't possibly hold up against these freaks of natures.

They had moved to almost every state in the freaking U.S.A. and she had picked up a little something from each one.

Not Megan. She was too busy hitting up the hot guys and shopping at the local Guccie stores.

Video games were also a helpful bonus to Allison's know-how.

A blood curdling scream.

That's what brought Allison out of her thoughts, out of her brain. It pulled her back to reality.

Cries and pleads of a quick death.

It was Megan's voice.

She had been over ran by a horde of zombies, who took advantage of her disability to knock them back.

"Run...Allison...Love...Go!" Those were the only words that were even fairly coherent to her. But she did it, she ran. Her sister was crying, and she told her self not to look back.

She regretted not listening to herself.

Her sister was chasing her now.

She was one of the infected.

_Fuck my life_, was all she thought as she ran as fast as her legs could possibly carry her.

She swung, a fire axe in her hands. Her arm was bleeding, glass shards stuck in her skin. She couldn't possibly do this, kill all these zombies, to get to the e-vac station. She had ducked in and out of houses, motels, to get here and she wasn't about to die. Three days. Three days she lived on zebra cakes (passed due their dates) and stale water that people had in their homes. She smelt like death. Dried blood sticking to her skin, as well as the dirt and grim from being knocked back and almost bitten.

It felt like she hadn't taken a bath in over a month.

Her red hair was stuck to her forehead and often got in the way of her swinging the fire axe above her head, and heaving it down into some unlucky asshole's brain. You could visibly see the brain matter fly off the axe as she ranked it out of one zombie head and into the other.

She was still trying to compute that this was even real. Maybe she was still in bed, still trying to fight off her dog for sleep... whatever happened to Lucky? Had he gotten a fate worse than death? Were animals immune? She struggled to think about something she loved. She numb. She had to kill her sister, had to swing a piece of board into her face. The blood... the blood flew on her face, she was horrified as she beat the life out of her sister's body.

She just wanted to leave. She wanted to go, but what if the e-vac was already gone? What if... she didn't find others? She'd surely come to the zombies, she'd welcome it if she had to go through this Hell without anyone at her side.

She climbed the stairs, her breath running out as she lifted the fire axe over her shoulder so she could go faster. She could hear the moans of the zombies far enough behind her. Gun shots... other gun shots. They rung through the air like a brief twist of paper. She didn't look back; she knew better.

_Seventy-five_

_Seventy-six_

_Seventy-seven_...

She kept herself busy. She skipped steps, almost falling backwards. Her legs burnt, her muscles ached, and her cuts felt like ice. Blood was splattered across her face, and her green eyes were almost dead. In a way she was dead. She had killed her sister. She heard her father die, which her own ears.

Finally, a door.

A door with a silver lining around it.

She tripped over her un-tied shoe laces, her knees hitting the concrete stairs hard. She didn't even want to think about anything besides the pain now, it was better than anything she could be thinking. She pushed open the door, her feet almost failing to comprehend what her brain was telling them to do.

The sun hit her face like water on fire. It felt good, and bad. The sun burned at her wounds, but the breeze fanned over her hot body.

That's when she heard that worst noise that day. It even succeeded the sound of her sister's dying gasps of breath.

The helicopter.

It was gone. The 'swish' of it's blades being evidence.

She fell to her knees in anguish, and suddenly tears prickling at her eyes.

"God damnit!" She hit the ground with her fists.

"This is not happening... this is not happening..." Another voice, besides her own. Allison looked up and saw four other people with her on that roof top, watching the damned helicopters fly away.

"I thought they were suppose ta be savin our asses?"

"Looks like there's been a change in plans." They were panting, they all probably had done the same thing she had to do.

"Really Sherlock, I couldn't tell." She spat at the ground as she gathered herself from the lump she was in.

The guy, in a shockingly white suit, narrowed his eyes at her, "great so we got a spirited one. You know they always go first right?"

"Look, enough wit' the fightin', it looks as if they are goin' to the e-vac center at the mall." A boy, a year or two older than her had spoken, a thick southern accent pouring out from every word.

"I gotta agree, let's follow them ta the mall." It was bigger guy, and she meant bigger. He was dark then the rest of them, save for the african american lady that stood there, hands on her knees. His bald head gleaming in the sunlight.

"Hey come on there," it was the younger boy, "get up, we gotta get movin' stick together, ya' know the works." God, he sounded like her Da. He encircled her forearm with his hand and lifted her up. In any other case, Allison would've blushed, giggled, and complimented on his muscles, but she didn't feel like being a tease. Like giving herself away to strangers, like being her normal teenager self.

"Everyone grab something, I suppose." No one introduce themselves, she guessed they either: 1.) Didn't care 2.) Already knew each other, or 3.) Didn't want to get close. Either way, Allison saw it as an opportunity not to open up; she gladly took it as God's sign of she was going to live. She was up, trembling legs at first, and the other lady looked at her with concern.

"You alright there sweetheart?"

"I don't think anyone is alright, especially with that amount of blood on their clothes." White suit answered for her, scoffing, as he aimed down the sights of his rifle. He must've picked it up along the way. Allison scoffed at White suit, which she dubbed him, and quickly snatched up a first aid kit and strapped it onto her back.

"I wasn't askin' you, smartass," the lady glared at him and patted her back, "look we're going to get there okay?"

"I'm not a child, but thanks for your concern lady." Allison grabbed the pistol off the metal table, checked if the clip was full, and grabbed all the ammo that her back pack (her zombie survival kit as she called it) could carry and quickly turned the safety off. She quickly stuck that in the ban of her shorts and grabbed her fire axe as well.

"Well, clearly she's not a child; she's a little lady, ain't that right?" Allison looked over at the younger boy and smiled lightly. He was sweet, in his own way, especially in a time like this. To a complete stranger that is.

"Okay boy, stop battlin' those damn eye lashes and lets get movin', shall we?" It was larger man that interrupted them, and for one, Allison was glad. She thought he was going to start going off in this long story of his life. The large man kicked open the door, obviously angry and began to decesend the steps into Hell. Allison sighed and pushed her way down the steps.

The first door they came to and she had pushed it open. Readying her fire axe, she slammed it down on the first thing she saw move. Which, happened to be a zombie maid (probably one that was cleaning the hotel when she got infected) and then into a business man's stomach. She started hacking her way through the crowd as the others either swung a bat, or started firing at the stragglers she had yet to axe down.

"Damn look at her go," the younger boy whistled, "a zombie killin' machine, don'cha think?"

"Yeah, like she has been doing this her whole life." Someone answered sarcastically as the sound of a cocked gun rang in the thin air.

There were hundreds of zombies, at the very least, that Allison could see outside. They were moaning and clawing at dead bodies that were scattered on the black top. The sun was beating down on the corpses, making their smell defile the air even more so. There were shrieks of pain from each zombie that was cut down, that was blasted in two, and each time those shrieks were heard, Allison drew another deep breath. They were getting there, they were actually doing a half decent job.

Then, they had made their way down, a burning smell filling their noses. The large man pointed over to two closed, metal doors, and covered his mouth. Allison was about ready to cough up a lung and they weren't even half way down.

"Is this building burning down?" She questioned, as well as she questioned her sanity.

"I suppose so Princess." White suit hollered back as he pried open the metal doors with his crow bar. The larger man, the one who pointed to the doors, was also helping to keep the doors back. With one final push, the doors opened and they all pilled into an elevator.

"Now, they always told me not to use an elevator during a fire, but I guess I can make an acc-ep-tiation this one time." Hitting the Lobby floor button, the young boy smiled and watched as the elevator door's closed.

"I guess we should learn each other's names if we're going to be killing together." Allison said, heaving her fire axe to the floor. She didn't want to admitt it, but she wanted to know the people's names after all. She couldn't sit there and yell "_Hey large black dude, there's a zombie nom nom nomming on your shoulder!_". Her shoulders were killing her and she just wanted a moment to relax.

"Oh, I'm Rochelle." The only woman besides herself, and their names weren't even close; which was pretty amazing.

"I'm Nick." White suit, of course he'd have a name like that. Nick the Shit, oh how she liked to rhyme; it was her favorite pass time.

"They call me Coach." The large black man smiled to himself and patted his stomach lightly. Allison decided he was a black version of Santa Claus.

"And I'm Ellis. Or ya' know some peoples called me El..." he went on, on a little story which Allison completely zoned out of. Did he always talk this much? Well, at least he was cute, and that's when she decided to start being just a bit nicer. He had the cutest smirk that she had ever seen, and it bugged her to no end that she was being a bitch to him. After all, they were being so nice to her... _except White suit that is._

"What's your name darlin'?" Ellis asked, obviously forgetting about turns in share time. He was smiling ear to freaking ear.

"Oh, I guess you can call me Allie... or Allison, which ever you feel like screaming."

"Screaming?" Nick's eyebrow was quirked in a sudden interest.

Allison knew exactly what he was getting at, and usually she'd flirt back, bat her eyelashes, but again, numbness, "you know over the millions of zombies that will be trying to bite off our appendages."

"Always the optimistic I see, Sunshine." She hated White suit.

**Another AN:** The longest freaking first chapter for me. I'm tired now x.x This has been sitting in my documents for about a month now, so here goes nothing. Have fun reading, and please review! :)


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